


Every Kiss A Story

by YamiSnuffles



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 09:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 12,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3724375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YamiSnuffles/pseuds/YamiSnuffles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of kiss prompts I received on Tumblr. Most chapters are rather brief and do not occur in any sort of chronological order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First

**Author's Note:**

> This is the same Inquisitor from my ongoing work, [The Altus Inquisitor](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3695171/chapters/8174480), but this is his canon identity and not his Tevinter AU form. Although these won't all occur in chronological order, I decided to post the first kiss first. Includes in-game dialogue.

Wind swept down from the snow capped mountains and buffeted Dorian, digging icy fingers into every patch of exposed flesh. He pulled his fur lined cloak tighter, suddenly quite happy that Lucien had given it to him, no matter how he’d scoffed about how dreadfully Ferelden it was. He watched tiny white peaks form on the distant surface of Lake Calenhad. They extended line after line into the horizon until it was all he saw. It was easy to lose himself in that. Though far from his preferred way to forget his woes, he had foolishly passed up the chance to pilfer anything from the Gull and Lantern. So, at nearly a day yet out from Skyhold, it seemed waves would have to do.

Boots scraped across the broad, hard stone of the Imperial Highway at Dorian’s back. A tight knot formed in his chest at the sound. He’d barely spoken to Lucien since his conversation with his father. He’d managed a few weary words about Halward and what the elder Pavus had tried to do. Trying for anything beyond that had left his head spinning. Lucien had given him his space and while Dorian was grateful for that, every step from Redcliffe had made the silence weigh heavier.

Lucien was a dark shadow at the periphery of Dorian’s vision. His hand drew closer, hovering, but never quite made contact.

“Are you alright?”

Dorian’s shoulders sagged. Apparently silence broken was heavier still than silence maintained.

“No, not really,” he sighed. He turned. His eyes lingered low, dancing over Lucien’s still fidgeting hand as it fretted at a loose string. “Thank you for bringing me out there. It wasn’t what I expected but… it’s something. Maker knows what you must think of me now, after that whole display.”

“I don’t think less of you. More, if possible.”

Dorian looked up. For the first time in days, a smile cracked his features. “The things you say.”

“I mean it,” Lucien replied firmly.

The skin around his eyes crinkled kindly. Dorian’s throat constricted. Suddenly full of energy he didn’t quite know what to do with, he started to pace. The shadows of his past chased his every step.

“My father never understood. Living a lie, it festers inside of you like poison. You have to fight for what’s in your heart.”

Lucien’s face brightened and he took half a step forward. “I agree.”

Dorian scanned Lucien’s face. Part of him was desperate to find a lie, some proof that he’d been offered pretty words and nothing more. There was the usual lopsided smile, half buried beneath the curl of his mustache. Faintest red colored the high cut of his cheekbones. In those boundless hazel eyes there was longing and heat, but also something more. Compassion. Understanding. Acceptance. Bald, unnerving care.

Dorian’s heart leaped up into his throat and his breath held tight in his chest as they drifted together. Only a few steps parted them but he felt each as an eternity. Contact was made as their hands met. Fingers curled and coiled about each other. Their palms pressed. Heat blossomed between them at the touch.

They moved together. Dorian shifted his grip to pull Lucien in the final step, just as Lucien’s other hand found purchase at Dorian’s hip. Dorian barely had a chance to marvel at the feeling of their bodies brought together, flush, before their lips met and everything else slipped away.

Lucien’s lips were surprisingly soft. The kiss was softer still. Tentative. Testing. A shiver bounced down Dorian’s spine at the rough brush of facial hair on his mouth and jaw. His hand came up to cradle the back of Lucien’s neck and draw him closer still to deepen the kiss. Dorian’s mouth opened just enough for an exchange of hot and heady breaths. Just a taste.

The kiss was over all too soon but they did not yet part. Dorian stretched up to his toes, drawn up to feel the electric glide of their bodies. If the world consisted a moment before of a pair of lips, he was now aware of everything. He drank in the cool thrill of metal under his fingertips as his own hands found the chainmail on Lucien’s shoulders. He felt the catch of a buckle on fabric and heard the soft creak of leather as Lucien’s hands tightened about his hips. His nostrils filled with the scent of the other man- linens and leather and a hint of cedar all glazed atop the subtle, primal musk of flesh.

A final kiss. It was the slightest press of lips, little more than an echo and not enough to satisfy, but with the promise of more. More kisses, more closeness, and more… something. Something that he couldn’t put a word to even if he tried. Even his fantasies had remained trapped in Tevinter. He’d imagined passionate kisses hidden away in dark corners, safely out of sight, pawing hands and the bitter bile of regret. What he saw in Lucien’s eyes- heard in his voice- left him treading unfamiliar waters.

It was a terrifying thought and more than enough to send Dorian gently pushing back. He nearly stumbled as he stepped to widen the distance between them. He smiled and tried to forget the ghost of Lucien’s lips still lingering on his own.

“I see you enjoy playing with fire, Inquisitor.” His voice was still husky. He took a moment to find a lighter tone. With a dismissive wave, he said, “At any rate, Skyhold calls. We should probably get going so that we don’t have to spend another day in this wretched cold.”

Lucien cleared his throat and straightened the wrinkles out of his coat. “Right.”

Dorian put on a bright smile and kept it in place until Lucien turned to get the horses. Then his expression flickered. He’d been down this road before. He knew exactly where this went- the scathing whispers, the scandalized looks, and the inevitable heartbreak. Beyond any of that, though, there was the ghost of that kiss which still haunted his lips. He remembered the way Lucien had spoken to him, the look in his eyes, and the feel of their hearts beating together, if just for a moment.

Dorian sighed. No one ever accused him of being sensible. “Just the one thing, before we go.”

Lucien stopped and cocked his head. Dorian caught his chin to pull him in for another kiss.


	2. Missed

It had taken far less time than Dorian would have imagined to get used to having another warm body in bed. He’d never had the luxury nor the desire to linger long back home. Lingering could make things messy and he’d had trouble enough without making things worse. Lucien had never insisted he stay the night- the line was always drawn where Dorian was comfortable drawing it- but it had been remarkably easy to fall into that routine. Dorian hadn’t really considered it until he found himself suddenly alone in a bed that felt too large for one person.

He frowned and dug his face further into Lucien’s pillow. A flick of his wrist was all it took to get the fireplace crackling to life again but neither the added heat nor the scent of the man he missed did a thing to improve his mood. It might be time to find something else to distract him. He let out a long, slow breath and considered a few choice memories.

“Am I ever glad to see you.”

Well now. Either his imagination was getting considerably better or-

“You’re back,” Dorian said with a bright smile.

Lucien fell heavily into bed. “Josephine decided my talents could be better used elsewhere.”

“Meaning our lovely ambassador finally realized cooping a mage up with a bunch of tight laced Chantry types was perhaps not the best political move.”

“If one more person reminded me that, ‘Magic is meant to serve’-” Lucien sighed. “I should have brought you along. At least it would have been exciting.”

Dorian chuckled and pulled Lucien close. The chill of night air still clung to Lucien. Dorian kissed him and slid his tongue past cool lips. By the time they parted, neither noticed that the fire had died down. Dorian fell into a blissful slumber, lost in a tangle of limbs and sheets.

All was right with the world once more.


	3. Kiss on the Nose

Lucien should have seen it coming. He’d practiced long enough to know when he was leaving himself open and yet when the pommel of Cassandra’s practice sword hit him in the gut, he was left surprised and winded. He fell onto his back with a wheeze.

“I believe we’re done for today, Inquisitor,” Cassandra said.

Even from the ground, Lucien couldn’t miss the quirk of her lips. She was enjoying herself far too much in these sparring lessons. Though he’d come a long way in his training, he was finding it difficult to find the enjoyment in it while gasping for breath like a fish out of water.

“Regretting this ridiculous warrior fantasy of yours yet?”

Dorian loomed overhead, his smile even less gracious than Cassandra’s. Lucien tried for a witty retort but had to settle with a pathetic gasp. Concern brought down the corners of Dorian’s mouth. He crouched down and ran a finger delicately along the curve of Lucien’s jaw.

“I don’t need to get revenge on your behalf, do I?” he asked with a chuckle.

“I’ll be alright,” Lucien coughed. “She just knocked the breath out of me.”

“Good. I care for you, amatus, but I’d rather not cross our dear Seeker.”

“There is something you could do for me.”

Dorian arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Lucien puckered up and Dorian laughed. He leaned in, pressing his lips lightly to the tip of Lucien’s nose. Without another word, he stood to go. Lucien caught the edge of his cloak.

“Wait, aren’t you going to help me?”

“Right. How thoughtless of me.” Dorian stopped in his tracks. Rather than offer Lucien a hand up, he said, "How’s this? Something for you to meditate on as you lay in the dirt for the rest of the afternoon- consider the wisdom of you,  _a mage_ , sparring with a woman who comes from an ancient line of dragon slayers. I hope that helps.“


	4. Jealous

Ordinarily, Dorian quite enjoyed watching Lucien’s various comings and goings. It had become one of his favorite pastimes. However, it turned out that the ball in the Winter Palace was the exception to that rule. Despite all the sneers sent his way, he’d been quite enjoying himself out in the gardens. That all ended when he decided it was time to see what Lucien was up to.

Lucien could be suave when he wanted but the poor thing tended to lose himself in the presence of nobles. Dorian expected to find him hiding in some dark corner but apparently Leliana and Josephine’s little lessons had bore some real fruit. The Inquisition was definitely putting it’s best face forward with Lucien. He was all gleaming smiles and charming jokes judging by the waves of laughter coming from his fawning entourage.

Dorian’s eye twitched slightly as one noblewoman lifted her mask to press a messy kiss to Lucien’s cheek. Not to be outdone, another noble pulled Lucien off to the dance floor. The two men swept step after flawless step in an intricate dance. Another successful lesson, apparently. In just a few short weeks, Lucien had gone from two left feet to drawing delighted gasps from onlookers.

Dorian grit his teeth and strode forward with a purpose. The moment Lucien stepped off the dance floor, Dorian caught him by the wrist. “A word in private, Inquisitor.”

Lucien smoothed the sudden exit with a few gracious words. Dorian was proud of him, truly, for handling it all so well but now wasn’t about that. Later he would take pride in the way Lucien had wrapped the elite of Orlais around his finger. Now, was about reminding himself that he was more than just another piece in this game.

“Dorian, what’s wrong? Did you catch a lead on the assassin? You seem-”

Dorian cut Lucien off with a rough kiss. He pressed Lucien to the wall. When this earned him a throaty groan, Dorian allowed his lips to curl into a smile. He made sure to rearrange his features into quiet boredom when they parted.

“Alright. Go, do your thing,” he said with a wave.

Lucien blinked mutely, his mouth slightly agape. He cleared his throat and shook himself back to the present. “Right, I’ll… do that.”

Lucien’s voice jumped in pitch on the final words. Dorian bit back a smile and smoothed the wrinkles he’d put into Lucien’s uniform. “I’ll find you later.”

“I look forward to it.”


	5. I Almost Lost You

Lucien was halfway through what he hoped was a courteous missive to Lady Such and Such of the ever noble house So and So thanking her for her generous support of the Inquisition, when he found all the papers on his desk scattered to the wind. He looked up to ask Dorian what the letters had done to offend but instead found his mouth captured in a fierce kiss. Dorian’s lips, sugar sweet from the pear he’d been eating, were rough and his tongue demanding. Lucien’s breath caught in his throat. His head swam with sudden desire he was too surprised to act on. Just as he gathered his wits from a lust addled mind, Dorian leaned back.

Lucien thought he could hardly be faulted if it took him a moment to find his voice again. “If I’d known tedious correspondence was such a turn on, I’d have jumped to it with a bit more gusto,” he said, still slightly breathless.

“You do bite your lip in the most charming way when you write.” Dorian traced his forefinger along the passion swollen curve of Lucien’s lips. “But give me some credit. If I was driven to such distraction every time you tried to find a polite way to tell the nobility to kindly not speak to you ever again, we’d never find a moment’s peace.”

Dorian’s hand had shifted to cup Lucien’s chin, his thumb taking up what his finger had left off.  Lucien leaned into the caress and planted a soft kiss on the pad of the thumb. He pulled back with a soft sigh before he was tempted to delve into something even more thoroughly distracting.

“Then what was that for? For future reference, mind you.”

“ _That_  was for something I’d very much prefer you not try again.” Dorian’s gaze fell inward. He shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the desk. “That pear, you gave me one like that to eat on the road on our way out of Redcliffe. It got me thinking, I almost lost you. You were almost written out of time altogether! If I’d been a moment slower countering that spell…”

Lucien blinked in surprise. “You kissed me for that? After all this time?”

Dorian leaned in closer so that their foreheads were pressed together. His hand was back up, teasing at Lucien’s lips. “I didn’t have the opportunity, then.”

“Well,” Lucien drawled while he still had the concentration to find the words, “if we’re catching up on missed opportunities, you also nearly lost me in Haven. Then we had that bad run-in with Red Templars in-”

When their mouths met again, Lucien was pleased to have the state of mind this time to return the burning press of Dorian’s lips with equal intensity. There were, after all, plenty of missed opportunities to make up for.


	6. Seductive

Lucien had waited in his bedroom for as long as he could bear but as the night wore on well past when Dorian said he would arrive, he decided it was time for a bit of initiative. There was only one place he expected to find the Tevinter at such an hour. As he mounted the final step of the rotunda up to Skyhold’s library, he was not disappointed. There, thoroughly ensconced by books in his usual nook, was Dorian.

His brow was knit in deep concentration as he delicately turned the page of an ancient tome. Torchlight glinted off his grey eyes, setting fire to the already intense gaze. Perhaps desire painted Lucien’s vision the way hunger seasoned food, but he swore the man looked more breathtaking than ever.

Lucien slicked back his own hair. He always felt remarkably disheveled next to the ever flawless Altus, but he did his best to look dashing as he strode over to the alcove. It turned out to be wasted effort because Dorian didn’t seem to notice his presence. Not to be dissuaded so easily, Lucien cleared his throat. Dorian lifted a curious eyebrow but still refused to take his eyes from the text before him.

“I’m rather tense from a long day of deliberations in the War Room,” Lucien said, rolling his shoulders. “I thought maybe you could help me find a way to relax.”

“We’re in a library. I’m sure you could find something to pique your interest.” Dorian gestured to the stacks of books around them, his attention still taken entirely by his reading. “I will grant the selection here is abysmal. Not a single copy of Aurea Regula’s groundbreaking treatise on the Golden City and yet I counted half a dozen copies that drivel,  _Hard In Hightown_. Six!”

Lucien was tempted to say he already had found something to pique his interest but decided that was more likely to earn him a laugh than a kiss. Instead, he settled on a different tack. “Well, they’re quite popular. I’m surprised you found so many still on the shelves.”

Dorian snorted indignantly at that and Lucien pressed on. “Although, I’ll admit, it’s his other series that really captured my imagination.”

“His other- you’re not talking about that rubbish Cassandra devours, are you?” This was enough to finally draw Dorian’s eyes out of his book. He looked up at Lucien, saw the flush in his cheeks and dilated eyes, and sighed. “Amatus, you’re not going to try to thrill me by reciting a passage, are you?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of a reenactment,” Lucien said with a grin.

He delicately removed the book from Dorian’s hands and placed it aside. As tempting as it was at the moment to toss it out of the way, he knew better. Dorian himself might not have objected to a bit of rough treatment but he drew the line at mishandling books. There was no point in ruining the moment by taking a bit of petty revenge on the tome.

As soon as it was out of the way, Lucien pulled Dorian up by the collar and pressed him to the shelves with a kiss. His tongue traced the seam of the other man’s lips before it was granted eager entrance. Meanwhile his hands found their place- one on the back of Dorian’s head and the other at his ass- to protect Dorian from the uncomfortable press of sharp corners at his back.

Their bodies pressed flush against each other.  The must of books was replaced in Lucien’s nostrils by the heady mixture of leather and spice. A subtle growl rumbled up from his throat as he nipped at Dorian’s lower lip. His fingers dug into hair and flesh, and he groaned into Dorian’s mouth. A roll of his hips elicited a similar sound from Dorian. Unfortunately, the increasingly heated movement from the two jostled a book from the shelf. It hit stone with a loud thud, drawing them both from the moment.

“I don’t remember that in  _Swords and Shields_ ,” Dorian panted.

“No? I’ve got a copy up in my room, if you’d like to join me.”

“Far be it for me to write off such an inspiring work of literature without deeper exploration.”


	7. War's End

_Alive._

_They were both alive._

No matter how many times Dorian repeated it in his head, he couldn’t bring himself to quite believe it. It hadn’t struck him until that moment just how sure he’d been that one of them would die along the way. Luck- the kind that meant love and life and happily ever afters- had never been his. The longer his luck held, the more sure he’d been something was going to snatch it all away. And what could end it all more completely than death?

From the moment the dust settled after the fight with Corypheus and Lucien stood before them all, alive and well, Dorian stood in wide eyed disbelief. He was determined to take in every last detail. He drank in Lucien’s relieved smile, marked by the familiar curl of both lips and mustache. He rejoiced at the long, easy gate that carried Lucien quickly down the stairs. He memorized each bump, bruise, and cut, determined to see them all carefully attended to.

Unfortunately, with a world saved came countless others demanding the attention of their savior, so it took far longer than Dorian would have liked to do anything but watch. The longer he waited, the more he needed. It wasn’t enough to see Lucien. He needed to feel quick breaths and calloused fingers. He needed to pull their bodies together and feel their hearts pounding in unison, a chorus for their survival.

The instant he was able, Dorian stole Lucien from his many admirers. In that moment he couldn’t have cared less about prying eyes or scandalized whispers but he wasn’t in the mood to share. This was a time for the two of them to remind each other how very alive they still were.

His hands glided reverently over the contours of Lucien’s frame. Their mouths moved together and Dorian relished every breath that passed through those lips. Still not content, he pressed a light kiss to two fluttering lids and down along a rough, stubbled jaw. He lingered on Lucien’s throat. A long, languorous kiss tattooed his lips upon Lucien’s steady pulse.

Dorian blinked away the tears that had collected on his lashes. He smiled into the crook of Lucien’s neck and held him close. Still alive. Still together. For once he let himself believe they’d stay that way for a long time to come.


	8. Surprise

Bull buried his massive battleaxe into the skull of the slain high dragon and bellowed in victory. Sparks still jumped from her scales. Potent electrical magic still clung in the air about the felled beast, lifting Sera’s hair into a frizzy, blonde cloud above her head. The archer bounced about from foot to foot as she unleashed a veritable torrent of rude gestures at the beast. Dorian leaned heavily against his staff and shook his head.

“Children,” he sighed.

As if summoned by Dorian’s restrained disdain, Lucien bounded in with a loud whoop. Like Sera, too many close calls with lightning had left his raven hair standing on end. Even his mustache had been reduced to a frizzy mess. There must have been something in the Ferelden air, because he looked like a pup, wriggling with unrestrained excitement.

Lucien clasped his hands tightly on Dorian’s shoulders. “A high dragon, Dorian. We just defeated a  _high dragon_.”

“I was there, yes. And a good thing. One of us had to keep a clear head while the three of you ran around cheering like-”

Lucien cut Dorian off with a kiss. Dorian’s eyes went wide with surprise. The electricity that passed between them put the slain dragon to shame. Already weary from the long battle, Dorian’s knees sagged beneath him. By the time they parted, breathless, Dorian wore the same victory drunk smile as the others.


	9. I Almost Lost You (2)

Voices- angry, sad, frantic voices- rang all around Dorian but he couldn’t make out a thing they said. They sounded like they were coming through the soupy, foggy mess that was the Fallow Mire. Only, he wasn’t in the Fallow Mire. At least, he didn’t think he was. He couldn’t rightly remember where he was or what he was doing and he couldn’t seem to open his eyes to clear any of that up.

When he tried to sit up, his gut roiled uneasily and his head swam. He groaned. That feeble sound was enough to stop all other chatter immediately. When they started up again, the mire in his mind had cleared enough for Dorian to finally understand them.

“By your leave, Inquisitor.”

“Go. Just… do whatever needs to be done.”

Lucien. Dorian almost wished his senses hadn’t returned. The other man’s voice was so painfully raw, it made his heart hurt. He fought against leaden lids to open his eyes. It took a moment for the world to right itself, but when it did, he saw that Lucien was perched on the edge of the bed. His hair was divided into disheveled tracks, undoubtedly from the rake of nervous fingers. His eyes were puffy and red. He had a white knuckled grip on Dorian’s hand that likely would have hurt if everything wasn’t so numb.

“What-?”

His tongue was thick and heavy in his mouth. Try as he might, he couldn’t get further words to come. Lucien understood, nonetheless. “You were attacked. An assassin.”

Dorian shook his head, certain he hadn’t heard right. “Me? But… why?”

“He shouted something about the Black Divine and Corypheus.” Lucien waved the subject off with an angry wave. Apparently that anger was all that was keeping grief at bay, though, because Lucien’s shoulders started to shake. “Maker, Dorian. There was so much blood. Your heart stopped for a moment. If there hadn’t been a skilled healer on hand… if Leliana hadn’t been around to identify the poison…”

Lucien blinked away hot tears. “I should have been faster.”

“Amatus-”

Dorian was going to tell Lucien not to blame himself, but he knew he’d do the same thing if their positions were reversed. Instead, he gave Lucien’s hand a weak, reassuring squeeze. Lucien leaned in, careful not to jostle Dorian, and kissed him. Their mouths moved together, slow, soft, and tender.

Lucien gave an embarrassed chuckle when the kiss was flavored by salty tears. He sat up and dashed them away. “I should let you sleep.”

He tried to get up to leave but Dorian’s grip was firm. “Stay.”

Lucien nodded. With his free hand, he brushed his fingers across Dorian’s cheek. He stopped a moment over the beauty mark there and then swept his hand over Dorian’s eyes to ease them shut. Despite the situation Dorian was now in, he couldn’t bring himself to be anything but grateful. This day had terrified him for so long, yet he’d always imagined Lucien as the victim. Somehow he hadn’t considered that the best way to save Thedas from a corrupted Inquisitor would be to kill the perceived corruption.

Dorian would take a thousand assassins’ blades if it kept Lucien safe. Well, he considered as he drifted off again with a labored breath, perhaps it would be best all around if the next attempt never came.


	10. Drunk

They hadn’t had much to drink. At least, not that Dorian could remember, though he’d admit memory probably wasn’t his strongest suit at the moment. Nor was walking, it seemed, from the way the two of them stumbled into Lucien’s temporary quarters in the Winter Palace. He’d grown weak, he supposed, on Skyhold’s generally piss poor offerings. Actually, that was an insult to piss.

Dorian wrinkled his nose. He had to be drunk if he was considering the quality of piss while he was thoroughly wrapped in the arms of a handsome man, in a room the likes of which he hadn’t seen since leaving Minrathous. A fire was roaring in the expansive marble fireplace, a selection of fine wines and assorted delicacies had been left out for the Lord Inquisitor’s leisure, and- most importantly- the bed was delightfully soft and draped in the most exquisite fabrics.

They tumbled into it together. It was warmed by a clever enchantment, from the feel of it. Dorian hummed in appreciation and rolled, grabbing a fistful of the luxurious sheets as he did so that they were soon swathed in smooth silk.

Lucien giggled.  _Giggled_. It was an absurd noise that Dorian quieted the best way he knew, with a delving kiss. Even with another man’s tongue in his mouth, Lucien’s laughter didn’t cease. Dorian might have been annoyed had it not produced the most delightful vibrations in his mouth and sent a tingle dancing down his spine.

He trailed a hot, messy line of kisses along Lucien’s jaw to the back of his ear. This drew the laughter to an end at last as Lucien sucked in a sharp breath. While Dorian nibbled at his ear, Lucien amused himself by letting his hands wander. They roved the planes of Dorian’s back and then around to his abdomen. Probing fingers found the hem of Dorian’s pants.

Just as Dorian’s breath hitched in his chest, the hands fell away. A moment later, the reason why was quite clear. Loud snores tore from Lucien’s gaping mouth. Dorian gave him a pointed nudge in the ribs but the man was gone.

Dorian sighed. He carefully untangled the both of them from the sheets and arranged Lucien on his side so that the snoring quieted. It wasn’t quite the end to the evening that Dorian had envisioned. However, as he pondered finding a different ending for himself, he too passed into blissful oblivion.


	11. Angry

It was cold out. Not just the miserable chill that seemed to hang on so much of the south but really bone chillingly cold out. Dorian had decided to warm himself in the tavern and he was far from the only one. Much of the Inquisition’s inner circle were crammed at a too small table, drinking and trading stories to pass the time. Sera was in the middle of a rather animated tale that involved her, a few of her “friends,” half a dozen chickens, and one unlucky noble when shouting outside cut her off. At first, no one thought much of it; the enduring cold had made tempers short and scuffles had broken out with increasing intensity over the past week. Sera was about to resume her tale when the shouting grew louder and everyone realized exactly who was making such a fuss.

“I don’t want to hear it, Cassandra.”

The entirety of the Herald’s Rest grew silent as, one by one, they recognized Lucien’s voice.

“Inquisitor, it was foolish of me to-”

“I said, don’t.”

It was clear every ear in the tavern was straining to hear but nothing more followed. Dorian was tempted to tell them off on Lucien’s behalf, even though he was as curious as the rest of them. Lucien was always so even tempered. Dorian couldn’t think of a single instance where the man had been truly upset, let alone to the point of shouting.

So, though it was sure to fuel even more hungry gossip, Dorian decided to brave the cold in order to check on Lucien. He wrapped himself in a heavy, velvet lined cloak and hurried out the door. Cassandra was standing alone in the courtyard. Her mouth was pursed into a hard, thoughtful line. Lucien was nowhere in sight, but following Cassandra’s uneasy gaze, it seemed he’d gone out the main gate.

Dorian shook off the idea of speaking to the Seeker first. Instead, he hurried out the gate in hopes of catching up to Lucien. Lucien must have stormed out in quite a hurry because by the time Dorian caught sight of him, he was deep in the mountain paths. Remarkably, the ground around the Inquisitor was steaming. In a moment, Dorian saw why. Lucien threw his arms wide and with a sweeping gesture, he hurled a massive fireball at the mountainside. The snow hissed and immediately turned to vapor.

“That’s one way to stay warm,” Dorian quipped.

Lucien whipped another fireball into the snow but didn’t respond otherwise. Dorian strode slowly to his side. He juggled a small fireball of his own from hand to hand before tossing it into a patch of ice. They continued on this way until the was nothing but bare stone and sizzling rock for yards around.

“They’ve known all along,” Lucien growled. “They knew how to reverse Tranquility and they kept it a secret.”

Ah. Tranquility was a sensitive subject for any mage. Given what he’d heard about the lead up to the recent mage rebellion, Dorian could see why Lucien would be especially upset about this revelation. While they were both mages, that had meant very different things for them growing up. The Circles, the role of Templars, and the dispensation of Tranquility, all of it was different in Tevinter. Dorian wanted to help but as seemed to so often be the case in this relationship, he was fumbling along in unknown territory.

“Ostwick wasn’t so bad,” Lucien continued, “but I still knew good mages- good people- who were made Tranquil, usually because they were just afraid. And when I saw them afterward…”

Lucien put a hand on one side of Dorian’s face and locked eyes with him. He ran his other hand lightly over Dorian’s features, hovering last over his brow. Lucien’s expression was mercurial. One moment, his jaw was clenched with barely repressed anger and the next, his lip quivered. Then, quite suddenly, he used the grip on Dorian’s face to pull him in for a kiss.

His mouth moved rough and desperate against Dorian’s. Dorian leaned in and tried to put everything he couldn’t find the words for into that kiss. He felt the tension gradually melt away, until Lucien was slumped against him. They stood forehead to forehead while Dorian ran a comforting hand over the top of Lucien’s hair.

Lucien let out a shuddering breath. “The thought of that happening to me now, or worse, you… I couldn’t bear it.”

Dorian lifted Lucien’s chin and kissed him softly. “I’d say the only thing either of us is in any real danger of is frostbite.”

Right on cue, Lucien started to shiver. He gave a half hearted chuckle through chattering teeth. He didn’t have a proper cloak on for the weather and without fire flying left and right, it was starting to take a toll. Dorian draped his over the both of them. He rubbed Lucien’s hands between his own.

“What do you say we get you back to your quarters? We can draw you a nice bath.” Lucien nuzzled closer and nodded. Dorian smiled and kissed the tips of Lucien’s fingers. “Good. I have a few ideas for how to warm you back up.”


	12. Kiss on the Forehead

Roaring fire at his back, Lucien chewed absentmindedly on chunk of bread. It was early enough that the main hall was nearly empty. The only other occupants were a couple of guards at the door and one curious dwarf.

“And what is our beloved Inquisitor toiling away at, so early in the morning?” Varric asked.

He peered over Lucien’s hunched shoulders. Lucien plucked a grape from the pile before him and held it up. “Peeling these,” he explained.

Varric took a seat at Lucien’s side. He had a steaming mug gripped tightly between his hands. He blew on it lightly before taking a sip. Once he’d swallowed, he chuckled. “You do know someone could do that for you, right? I mean, it’s  _you_  so someone would probably lick your boots clean if you asked. More importantly, though, why are you up at the ass crack of dawn peeling grapes?”

“One of Leliana’s men, Jareth, told me Dorian has been in the library the entire night. And that’s on top of the day he spent there before that.” Lucien popped one of the grapes in his mouth and sighed. “I was finally able to get ahold of some books he wanted and he’s been researching nonstop since then. I thought this was the least I could do.”

Varric took another sip from his mug and hummed happily. “You want help? Not me, of course, but I think I saw the Seeker up and walking around. She enjoys tedious tasks.”

“No, I want to do this myself. Plus, it’s easy with magic.”

Lucien’s fingers briefly flared a molten orange before they turned a frosty white. The grape’s skin split and slipped right off. He placed it in a bowl with the other finished grapes then moved on to the next one.

Varric whistled. He gave Lucien a hearty clap on the back. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Wouldn’t want to keep Sparkler waiting. I’ve been around when he’s hungry and tired. He gets cranky.”

Lucien had the final grape peeled in short order and placed it with the rest. He placed the bowl on a tray along with a dollop soft cheese and crusty bread. A brisk walk later and he was ankle deep in books. He picked carefully through the stacks until he found Dorian in his usual alcove. His fellow mage had three books opened on a small table before him to go with the one he had his nose buried in.

There was a small line between Dorian’s furrowed eyebrows. Lucien bent carefully so as not to upset the tray and planted a light kiss on the line in Dorian’s forehead. Dorian let out a gratified groan as he arched his back to stretch out stiff muscles. He scrubbed his hand over his face and frowned when his fingers met stubble. His frown deepened when he glanced at the window.

“How long have I been here?” he asked, blinking blearily at the sunlight.

“All night.” Lucien offered the tray.

“Amatus, you must hear what I’ve discovered. If I’m understanding correctly, and of course I am, then I might have found a way to-” Dorian paused when he finally realized what was before him. “But what’s this?”

“A bit of pampering for all your hard work.”

Dorian took a grape. He rolled it thoughtfully between his thumb and forefinger, a light smile on his face, before he put it in his mouth.

“There’s no gold leaf garnish but I suppose I’ll survive. Now I’m just a hot bath and a massage away from home,” he said with a grin.

Lucien chuckled. “First, eat and sleep. Then, I’m sure something can be arranged.”


	13. The Morning After

Consciousness tugged stubbornly at Dorian’s sleeping mind. Even if he was a morning person, and he most certainly was not, every fiber of his being was pleading for him to stay put. He was warm- delightfully, blissfully so- and comfortable. It was only as he started to wake up that he realized he was too comfortable. His own sheets weren’t nearly so soft nor was his bed large enough for him to really sprawl out so. Which meant he wasn’t in his own bed. Which meant he’d spent the night in someone else’s quarters.

A spike of panic turned his stomach and instantly banished any last thought of sleep. With a more lucid mind came memories of the night before. There was sex and terrifying confessions and promises of more. At the end of it all was Lucien, gently asking him to stay the night.

Fear slowly unwound from Dorian’s chest and he cracked open his eyes. When he did, he saw Lucien leaning on his elbow and smiling down at him. Lucien averted his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I’ve never been able to wake up to someone else in my bed and…” He rubbed the back of his neck and then turned his gaze back on Dorian. “Well, Maker, have you seen you? I mean, how does your hair do that? It’s still so nice.”

Dorian laughed, his tension easing further. He was certain his hair was far from immaculate but Lucien’s was indeed a tousled mess. The dark locks were sticking out in every direction imaginable, some of which seemed impossible but given all they’d done the night before, not improbable.

Dorian reached out to smooth it down. “You mustn’t compare yourself to me. You’ll only fall to despair.”

Lucien chuckled. He drew up Dorian’s chin and kissed him. Dorian’s eyes drifted shut and the final coil of concern unwound. Their lips moved together at a lazy pace, befitting of the morning. Dorian used his tongue to trace Lucien’s lower lip before he slipped it into Lucien’s mouth. He savored the deep kiss a moment longer before he pulled back with a happy sigh and sank into the pillows.

Lucien wound his arms Dorian. “I’m glad you stayed.”

So was Dorian, actually. He hadn’t wanted to. More accurately, he had wanted to except a thousand voices had piped up in the back of his mind to offer a thousand reasons why it was a terrible idea. He’d pushed them away with some effort and now here he was, wrapped in Lucien’s arms. The only problem with it all was he was finding it exceedingly difficult to find a reason to leave.


	14. Shy

A long and particularly miserable stint in Crestwood had finally drawn to a close, leading to a particularly rambunctious night in camp. After over a week of fighting in the rain against demons, the undead, bandits, and a handful of easily perturbed druffalo, a bit of celebration was in high demand. Cards and money changed hands in equal measure. Easy laughter and increasingly outrageous tales passed through lips lubricated by an ample stock of alcohol “requisitioned” from the bandits.

Dorian barely noticed any of it. All of his attention was keenly focused on the point between he and Lucien where their thighs brushed lightly against each other. It was perfectly innocent, accidental contact. There was only so much seating to be had for the large group and so they were all practically on top of each other. Yet every time Lucien’s elbow bumped an arm or his hand grazed a knee, Dorian felt it and tensed.

He wasn’t used to the casual physical contact that so many couples took for granted nor was he sure he ever would be. As it was, he could hardly say they were an item of any sort. They’d kissed not long after his confrontation with his father and then a few times since then. Each time they’d been alone. Even then it had been complicated.

He longed to be with Lucien- every time was a new breath and a new life, tingling through his veins. It felt like the simplest thing in the moment but as soon as that moment was over, everything else came rushing back in. Fears held over from Tevinter gnawed at him and always there was the nagging concern over discovery. What would it mean for them, once the world knew? What would it mean for Lucien?

These were the things he tried to remember and the things that drove him to dark, out of the way corners where Lucien was his only light. Here, before of roaring fire and all their friends, he didn’t dare. Or that’s what he kept telling himself- that he couldn’t possibly dare no matter how his breath hitched excitedly in his throat or his cheeks warmed when Lucien smiled at him.

Dorian should have guessed that Lucien already knew him too well. The man could hear the unending march of Dorian’s fretful thoughts over any amount of merrymaking in camp. Lucien arched an eyebrow and tilted his head. Dorian shook his head, denying the silent invitation to talk. When Lucien then shifted to give Dorian space, Dorian felt the cold air between them more sharply than any touch.

He didn’t want that. He didn’t want Lucien to pull away or for Tevinter to rule over his life any longer. Instead, he caught the hem of Lucien’s sleeve to bring him closer. When Lucien’s smile widened, Dorian couldn’t help but capture that smile with his lips.

It was barely a whisper of contact and over practically before it began. No one in camp noticed. Life went on. For Dorian however, whose heart still hammered in his chest, it was another step into a new world.


	15. Magic

If Lucien had learned anything from a lifetime surrounded by mages, it was that spellwork was an extension of each individual mage’s identity. Vivienne’s every move was elegant but carefully contained- enough power to show exactly what she was capable but withdrawn enough to show she was in complete control. Solas tended toward subdued movements that belied the ease with which he twisted the Veil to his every need. In Lucien’s eyes, though, none could match Dorian. Watching Dorian cast was a thing of beauty.

He slung spells with the enthusiasm you could only expect from a mage brought up in a country where his powers were exalted. His features lit up and his body treated every spell like a familiar dance partner. Magic leaped and swirled around him, following every flick of his wrist and sweep of his staff. His robes, undoubtedly chosen in part for just such a purpose, made it all the more dazzling. Magic rolled off silk and shimmered along gold filigree. He didn’t just  _use_  magic, he  _was_  magic.

Lucien had thought that the first time he saw Dorian in the Redcliffe chantry and he still thought it now as he watched Dorian practice his spellwork along a sandy ridge in the Hissing Wastes. The rest of the camp had settled in for a night of much needed rest but apparently there was nothing like a day of fighting Venatori to get Dorian worked up.

Lightning, fire, and ice lanced the endless starry sky. The night watch seemed a bit nervous about the display but Lucien was enraptured. Dorian was bathed in moonlight. He must have been exhausted but his teeth shone with bright barely contained glee as he continued a barrage of spells at near blinding speed.

“As much as I’m enjoying watching you, I think Scout Wells is getting a little nervous,” Lucien said. “Pause for a drink?”

He offered up a potion, which Dorian took without a word. He swallowed gratefully. When Lucien reached out to retrieve the empty bottle, Dorian caught him by the wrist and pulled him in for a kiss. Lucien’s tongue tingled at the lingering taste of lyrium in Dorian’s mouth. Dorian nipped at Lucien’s lower lip. He stepped back with a small growl.

“If you want to do more than just look, I’ve got a more hands on display you’re free to participate in back in my tent.”

Lucien grinned. “I leave myself in your very capable hands.”


	16. Sorry

“I’m sorry. I keep making it worse.”

Cole reached toward Dorian, but the mage moved smoothly out of range. He had his back to everyone now.

“No, I’m sorry. Of course you don’t understand,” he sighed. “Just… leave me with it for now.”

Dorian disappeared along a thin, winding trail. Cole pulled at the rim of his hat so that his face nearly disappeared completely beneath it. His mouth continued to move with things unsaid- probing questions and a silent plea to forget. But he didn’t make Dorian forget, perhaps couldn’t, and he let it drop. Varric guided him away by the elbow.

“Come on,” the dwarf said gently. “I saw a spot a way back that would make for a good camp. I can show you how to set up a tent.”

“But the tents like how I put them up.”

“Sure they do, kid, but no one can get inside them that way.”

Lucien watched them walk off in the opposite direction before he set off after Dorian. He found him leaning against the crumbling remains of an ancient wall. Lucien hesitated. Dorian held his pain close and he’d already been torn raw for the entire party to hear. He wasn’t likely to thank anyone for intruding on him again before he’d managed to collect himself. Lucien hoped he was the exception and that he would somehow find more success than a spirit of compassion because he couldn’t watch Dorian in pain and do nothing.

He made a point of stepping on every twig in his path so that he could be sure Dorian heard him coming. Dorian’s posture stiffened. He was smiling when he turned, but there was a tightness around his mouth that carried to his voice.

“I’ll only be a moment. Just needed to breathe before we get back to saving the day. Again. I know how you all positively fall apart without your dashing Tevinter in top form to watch your backs.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For looking dull in comparison? Don’t be. Everyone does.”

“ _Dorian_.”

The Tevinter shook his head defiantly. “I said he could ask questions and he did.”

Lucien rested his hand on Dorian’s. Though Dorian was hugging his arms tightly, it was not enough to still the trembling in his limbs. Lucien wrapped his arms around the other man and held him close. The sides of their heads rested against each other so that Lucien’s mouth was at Dorian’s ear.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “For not stepping in sooner. For every wound that goes so deep, you leave it there in the dark and feel you need to shine brighter so no one else can see it.”

Dorian gave a hollow laugh through shuddering breaths. “Taking a page from Cole’s book, are you?”

“If that doesn’t help, this is all me.”

Lucien pressed his lips to the soft skin just behind Dorian’s ear and again at the curve of his jaw. He traced a trail that led him to Dorian’s mouth. They shared a lingering kiss. The tears Dorian had gone through such pains to hide flavored his lips. Lucien erased them with the tender ministrations of his mouth. He didn’t pull back until he felt Dorian relax in his arms.

“If you want to stay out here a bit longer, I’m sure we won’t be missed for a while. Varric is trying to teach Cole to set up camp properly.”

Dorian snorted. “If that’s the case, we have all the time in the world.”

Lucien grinned and placed a final kiss on Dorian’s forehead. “Then it’s a good thing we’re together.You know there’s no one I’d rather be stranded in time with.”


	17. Good To See You

Dorian pulled in a deep, satisfying breath. The air was laced with the rich smell of ancient books and it sent a pleasant tingle down his spine with every breath. He wasn’t sure what strings Lucien had pulled to gather such an obscure collection. When asked, Lucien had claimed he’d finally tracked down that rebellious heretic archivist Dorian had so wanted. Dorian had made a half-hearted attempt to seem upset about once again being the object of the Inquisitor’s favor but it crumbled in the face of those gorgeous books.

His fingers ghosted reverently over every letter on those ancient pages. A few of the arcane tomes, long buried in a private library in Tevinter, sung with ages of magic. It gave Dorian a not altogether unpleasant sense of homesickness.

When he finally tore his gaze away from the text, he was met with a look of such bald adoration that it made the tips of his ears burn. He used the books as an excuse to avert his eyes.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s good to see you again.”

Baffled, Dorian turned his attention back to Lucien. He raised an eyebrow. “Have I gone somewhere that I was unaware of? I’ve been in your quarters all evening and for every evening in recent memory. If I didn’t see you quite so often, I might actually have a chance to read these books instead of bonding with giants in the Emerald Graves.”

Lucien delicately grasped a stack of books and moved them from the sofa so that he could take a seat at Dorian’s side. “True but there’s Dorian on the road and Dorian in Skyhold and Dorian in the tavern. Then there’s Dorian in my quarters, too busy drooling over all these books to put on any masks.”  
  


“I don’t drool. And I had no idea there were so many Dorians. However do you handle all of us?”

“I manage,” Lucien chuckled before a worried shadow darkened his features. “You’ve been withdrawn since Adamant. I’m glad I could find something to bring you back to me.”

His fingertips caressed Dorian’s cheek with the same open veneration the Tevinter had bestowed upon the Liberalum a moment before. Dorian’s heart hammered with remembered hurt. He’d gained so much with Lucien. It was an amazing, wondrous thing until he’d realized how much he stood to lose. Every brush with death was a reminder of just how likely that loss was. It wasn’t a matter of if he would lose Lucien, but when. Adamant had made that fact painfully clear.

“The way you looked just now while you were reading-” Lucien continued. His cheeks bloomed a deep russet. “You really are amazing.”

“I don’t think you’re allowed to say such things with so much sincerity.”

“Would you rather I lavish you with empty flattery?”

“It would make me feel less like I might have stumbled into one of Varric’s atrocious tales.”

“I wish I had his literary skill. Then I might be able to find the right words for the way you make me feel.”

Dorian glanced around the room. “I have haven’t I? We never actually left the Fade and now I’m trapped in the nightmare realm that is the latest Swords and Shields.”

Lucien threw up his hands. “Alright, I’ll stop. But you should know, when I first met you, I thought maybe I’d stumbled into a dream myself. That was the first time I had a religious experience in a Chantry.”

“You clearly don’t give yourself enough credit. You could give Tethras a run for his money.” Dorian snorted. Say what he would, even biting the corner of his mouth, he couldn’t restrain the smile that spread across his face. He leaned in a planted a soft kiss on Lucien’s lips. Throat suddenly tight, he said, “I… appreciate the sentiment, amatus.”


	18. Sweet

_If his father could see him now._  But Dorian didn’t want to think about Magister Halward or anyone else back home. Not now. Now, he was happy. For once he wasn’t cold. He wasn’t covered in mud or blood or any of the other unspeakable things that frequently ruined his favorite clothes. The sun was shining without a cloud in the sky. Children were laughing in the distance. Freshly bloomed flowers filled the air with sweet perfume. The man he loved was strolling by his side.

It was nauseatingly saccharine, really.

Lucien bumped him with his shoulder. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m just wondering how likely it is that my teeth will rot straight out of my mouth.”

“Oh? Is that why you’re smiling so much?”

“Yes, in fact. I have a marvelous smile. If the world is about to be robbed of it, I wouldn’t dare compound the crime by also depriving the people of a few final moments to bask.”

Lucien flashed his own dazzling smile. He drifted closer and twined their fingers loosely together. “Oh? How altruistic of you.”

“Think of it as repayment for a day of leisure in the midst of something resembling proper civilization.”

“Resembling civilization? We’re in Val Royeaux!”

“As I said,” Dorian said with a long suffering sigh. “I’ll grant it’s a step up from our usual environs but truly, I must take you to Minrathous some day.”

“Well, until then, there are more immediate charms for us to enjoy here.”

Before Dorian could express his heartfelt doubt on the matter, Lucien wrapped his hand around Dorian’s wrist and dragged him forward at a run. His eyes went wide and he nearly tripped over his own feet. There was plenty he wanted to ask but all he managed was a breathless, “What-”

“Just trust me.”

Lucien laughed. Dorian was surprised when laughter bubbled up in his chest in response. They had to look ridiculous. Two men laughing and dashing through the wide avenues of Val Royeaux as if they had an Archdemon at their heels. Seeing as they’d both actually had an Archdemon and worse after them, Dorian felt all the more foolish. Somehow, though, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Lucien sent them hurtling around corner after corner. More than once, a crowd of unsuspecting Royans scattered in their wake. The sheer volume of disapproving gasps gave the impression of rushing wind swirling about them. One last corner and Lucien came to a sudden stop. Unprepared, Dorian tumbled forward into Lucien’s arms.

“Still smiling,” Lucien said between heavy breaths. “That’s good.”

“If you think that’s good, I’ve got something better.”

Carried forward by the giddy beat of his heart, Dorian pushed Lucien against the wall and kissed him. They were both breathing too hard to stay together long but they parted with a pair of matching smiles still painted on their faces. Dorian buried his face in Lucien’s neck.

“So what charming corner of the city did you positively have to make sure I saw in such a rush?” he asked. Lucien jerked his chin. Dorian rolled his head. There, along the shaded alcove was a string of blissfully oblivious couples, similarly ensconced in each others arms. Ah. A so-called lover’s alcove. “You had the route here memorized?”

A subtle blush crept into Lucien’s cheeks. “I might have made a note.”

Dorian gave the alcove another appraising glance. A mural depicting trees and sky brought it in union with the lush garden nearby. There was a certain quaint charm to it all and everyone else was too preoccupied for him to be bothered by lack of real privacy.

“Not bad,” he drawled.

“Maybe a bit more exploration will change your mind.”

“It’s a possibility. I suppose we’ll just have to find out.”

Dorian cupped Lucien’s jaw and angled him in for a deep kiss. Now that they’d caught their breath, they had all the time in the world to enjoy themselves and, at least for the moment, not a care to stop them.


	19. Foolish

Lucien sprawled out in the lush, springy grass. Birds flitted about above in the boughs of ancient, towering trees. Sunlight filtered down to warm his cheeks. It was a perfectly idyllic moment. Or, it would have been if Dorian wasn’t sitting on a stone nearby, tapping his foot incessantly.

Lucien lifted lazy lids and rolled his head to look up at the other man. Dorian was squinting at something in the distance.

“You know, if things go south here, I’m sure the Black Divine would love you,” he said. “Or try to kill you. It’s always a toss up with him.”

Lucien propped himself up on his elbow and chuckled. “What brought this on?”

Dorian jerked his chin in the direction of the stream. Cassandra was patrolling there, hand on the hilt of her sword. Bears beware, Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast was on the job. An inspiring sight, in its way, but Lucien still wasn’t sure how Dorian had stumbled upon their current conversation.

He quirked an eyebrow and Dorian sighed as though it should have been the most obvious thing.

“Our dear Seeker once said she would drag me to a Circle if they were still in place.”

“I’m sure she’d never, really. She’s been a fierce advocate for Solas. She’s been one of my staunchest supporters even when we haven’t seen eye to eye. And she… well, okay, I she’s not that fond of you but I think you’re growing on her.”

“Even after everything you’ve done, there’s no guarantee that you’ll still have your freedom at the end of the day. Cassandra might not be the one to haul you in but there will be plenty willing to do the job for her. You are emblematic of everything your Chantry stands against- a mage, quite literally ruling over others. You’re strong. You’re free. You’re colluding with the evil Tevinter.”

Lucien didn’t fail to note the way Dorian rushed through the last bit nor did he fail to hear the catch in said Tevinter’s voice. He sat up and reached toward Dorian but his hand was batted away.

“I’m just saying a move north might not be such a bad idea,” Dorian said. “We embrace the touch of magic in our holy figures.”

“They’d still frown on the colluding bit.”

Dorian gave a hollow laugh. “There is that.”

Lucien stood and brushed stray grass from his coat. He sat on the stone next to Dorian. This time when he reached over, Dorian accepted his grasp. Their fingers wound together. Dorian ran his thumb over the knuckles of Lucien’s hand.

“You’re walking a dangerous path,” he said, quietly. “A mage as a holy figure… I don’t want to be the thing that causes the masses to move from shouts of heresy to assassination attempts.”

“Do you think they’d try to burn me at the stake? I mean, I’m a fire mage. That just seems so-”

Dorian glowered at him. “I’m being serious.”

“And I’m refusing to take you seriously. What do you expect? Yes, Dorian. You’re quite right, Dorian. Let’s end things this moment, Dorian.”

“Your life and liberty might depend on it. You should at least consider what I’m saying.”

“No.”

“Just, ‘No’?’”

“No.”

Dorian dug the toe of his boot into the dirt. “You are a fool.”

“What’s that?” Lucien held a hand up to his ear. “The Maker is speaking to me. He says, 'Takes one to know one.’”

Dorian shoved Lucien with his shoulder but a smile crept into his voice. “A fool and a child.”

“You forgot the Herald of Andraste, who can do what he will and be with who he will. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

Dorian pressed a light kiss to Lucien’s lips, then leaned their foreheads together. “Fine, be a fool. But you forget I’m a necromancer. If you get killed because of me, I’ll find a way to raise you up so that I can kill you myself.”

“It’s a deal.”


	20. Good Morning

Lucien squeezed his eyes shut. The sun had been up for awhile now and he’d been awake from the moment it had come pouring through the windows. He had no idea why his quarters didn’t have curtains to shut out the light but as he struggled to fall back asleep, he vowed that would change soon. There were more pressing matters, he was sure. If he was more awake, even he would admit the holes in the tower likely should be looked to before drapery. However, as he woke at the first light of another dawn, even Corypheus felt like less of a threat than this assault on his slumber.

He sat up with a groan. Although it felt like he’d been awake for hours, the rosy light that bathed his quarters proved the morning was still young. He might have tried to get back to sleep one last time had he not cast his eyes across the bed.

Dorian was sprawled along the far edge of the mattress. Now there was a sight worth any number of early mornings. The covers had become tangled amongst his feet during the night but otherwise, not a stitch of fabric obscured the view. In the warm morning light, his skin looked a bit like poured gold. The sun danced along the gracious lines of his lithe, muscular form. Any artist would surely kill for such a muse. He was no artist but Lucien certainly found himself feeling distinctly… inspired.

He moved softly across the bed, careful not to disturb Dorian. When he pressed his lips to Dorian’s shoulder, though, he was met not with a smile but a groan. He tried again, kissing Dorian’s neck instead, but was waved away.

“If you truly want me to make a habit of staying through the night, amatus, I’d suggest you take a very careful look at the hour,” Dorian mumbled.

“Taking a careful look is what got us into this situation in the first place,” Lucien chuckled.

Dorian grumbled again but Lucien caught the smile that curled his lover’s lips. Well then, if Dorian wanted him to change tactics, then change tactics he would. He bent low and planted his lips firmly on Dorian’s hip. He moved his mouth in a leisurely line, tracing the kiss of sunlight on Dorian’s skin. Lucien was rewarded with a sharp gasp. He glanced up. Dorian’s eyes were still stubbornly shut, though the smile on his lips had spread.

Lucien continued his meandering ministrations. He moved over the curve of Dorian’s hip to his thigh. As he found his way from the top toward the inner thigh, the skin twitched under his lips. Dorian’s chest rose and fell with quickening breaths.

Lucien sat up abruptly. At last, Dorian opened his eyes. Lucien stretched into a wide yawn in response.

“You’re right,” he said. “It is awfully early”

Dorian blinked. For a moment Lucien thought his plan had failed but then Dorian was up in a flash. He took Lucien’s shoulders in a steely grip and rolled him onto his back, straddling him. Lucien smiled but didn’t say a word. He waited. Then Dorian descended and claimed a fierce kiss. All games were promptly forgotten in the eager clash of hungry lips and probing tongues.


	21. Stolen Moment

Dorian’s back bumped against cool stone but he barely noticed. He tried to stay in the moment- enjoy the man standing before him, mouth pressed to his- but it was an insufferably hard thing to do. It wasn’t as though kissing Lucien was unpleasant. Far from it. Even after all the time Dorian had spent imagining it, the reality was difficult to beat. He savored the shiver that hopped down his spine at the contrast of soft lips and the rough brush of facial hair. However, the unease that snaked into his gut drew him from true enjoyment.

Being with Lucien, even for a few tentative, testing kisses felt illicit. Lucien was either quite the practiced liar or altogether oblivious to the whispers that swirled about them. It wasn’t like Tevinter, not by a longshot, but it bothered Dorian. He tried not to care. He tried to remind himself that this was what the two of them both wanted. So he joked and put on a show. Made a quip here or there about stealing the Inquisitor’s soul in order to sweep Lucien off to some hidden corner as if it was all a game.

That didn’t stop Dorian from worrying. Even when there wasn’t a soul to see them together, it plagued at him.

“Are you alright?”

Lucien stepped back, though he didn’t break all contact. His hands were still on Dorian’s arms and his fingers betrayed a desire to pull them both together again. Dorian resisted the urge to let himself be dragged into the other man’s arms. He instead leaned back against the wall.

“It’s nothing,” he lied easily.

“You feel like you’re a thousand miles away.”

Perhaps space was his enemy in this game. Dorian rectified that by winding his arms around Lucien. He let a wicked grin grace his lips. “Just lost in thought, I suppose. Considering a rather delightful tongue twister I once heard.”

At this distance, it was easy to see the way Lucien’s eyes dilated. Clearly he’d picked up on the not so subtle message Dorian was sending him. Unfortunately, he also saw right past it. “If you’re not comfortable, we can stop this.”

This. This kissing or this… whatever they had forming between them? Dorian didn’t want either, he was sure of that. That surety was enough to push his other worries aside for the time being.

“That’s not what I want,” he assured.

There were still questions written in Lucien’s eyes. Dorian looked to erase them. One hand found Lucien’s waist and the other grasped the back of his neck. Dorian ran his thumb along the rough line of Lucien’s jaw. He tilted Lucien’s head, leaned in, and deepened the kiss. Hot breath crept from between parted lips and painted their features as their tongues met, quick and eager.

Dorian smiled inwardly at the contented sigh that drew from the other man. His hand moved from Lucien’s jaw to the back of his head. Lucien, meanwhile, rubbed intoxicating circles about the exposed skin on Dorian’s shoulder. The rest of the world melted away in the face of roving hands and delving tongue.

Dorian fell a bit too roughly against the wall. This time he couldn’t ignore the hard stone at his back. He winced. Lucien pulled back, concern knitting his brow.

Moment over.

Dorian sighed inwardly as a clearer head allowed worries to creep back in. “Well, as fun as this has been, I’m sure you have countless others awaiting your attention.”

“If they all wanted this sort of attention, I might not dread it so much. Or maybe I would. There’s really only one man whose tongue I’d like down my throat,” Lucien chuckled.

“Oh? Must be something to have caught the Inquisitor’s eye. You’ll have to introduce me to him sometime.”

“You’re quite well acquainted already, I’m sure. I for one, however, would like to get to know him better.”

Dorian smoothed the wrinkles from his clothes. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop a self-satisfied grin from spreading across his face. He looked sidelong at Lucien. “Perhaps  if you stopped by to visit him again after you’re done with all that running around you need to do.”

“That could definitely be arranged.”


	22. Nonsense

Lucien rested his forehead against the cold stone of the battlements. It eased away the start of what had been promising to be a nasty headache. There were, he was sure, countless other things he needed to do. He’d been on his way to do one of them when he’d stopped here. What was it he needed to do again? Talk to Cullen about the troops? Or had he been off to check on Cole? Or had he checked in on Cole and that was why he now couldn’t remember what he was supposed to be doing?

Whatever it was, the longer he stood there, the less inclined he was to remember. Even as a kink slowly worked into his neck, he dreaded the inevitable call of responsibility. Luckily, he had someone more that willing to distract him.

“I was getting exhausted just watching you from my window. Working out the pose you’ll use for your memorial statues?” Dorian asked. “I can see the plaque now, ‘The Herald of Andraste crushed by the ceaseless demands of his followers.’”

Lucien rolled his head so that he could see Dorian but left it against the stone in case his headache decided it would try to return. “Crushed? What was it I said about you being a pessimist?”

Dorian laughed. “Now, now. It’s not all bad. I’m positive your ass would looked great carved in marble. You would be, as the Maker intended, stark naked in the statues I envision. The Chantry mothers would balk at it, but I’ll be sure they do you justice. You’ll do the same for me, I should hope, if you make it through all of this and I don’t.”

“We could both live until we’re old and wrinkled enough that no one will want to see statues of us, naked or otherwise.”

“ _Blasphemy_. As if such a day could ever come for me.”

Lucien smiled. “Well then, instead of arguing over it, perhaps we could do something that wouldn’t remind me of the fact people are looking at me like some Maker sent miracle.”

“And what could that be? What could possibly tempt the Lord Inquisitor to say to the Void with all this lovely responsibility?”

“The brilliant scion of house Pavus can’t work that one out on his own?”

Dorian caught ahold of Lucien’s chin and tilted it up for a quick, rough kiss. When he pulled back, he shook his head, though he had a grin on his face.

“The nonsense you keep spouting. Is it any wonder why I imagine your likeness alone being saved for posterity?” He turned about on his heel but paused a few steps away. “Are you coming or not?”


	23. Accidental Confessions

“I should go.”

Embarrassment fanned flames across Lucien’s cheeks and down his throat until it formed a scalding pit in his gut. He swallowed hard, trying to stem the rising tide of nausea. Though he tried to hide his discomfort, it was clear Dorian could read him like an open book. Dorian’s bright grin slipped and his eyebrows drew together.

“Lucien.”

“No, it’s fine. I have… things I need to do, I’m sure. Inquisitor and all.”

Dorian moved to stop him but Lucien dodged out of the way. He turned hastily on his heel and started down the stairs to escape the library. He didn’t stop until he found himself at a dead end on the battlements. The crisp mountain air cooled his cheeks and calmed his nerves. Given time to breath, though, he only felt more foolish rather than less.

He’d dropped by for a casual chat with Dorian, nothing more. Before he knew it, he’d instead found himself declaring his desire for them to stay together forever. It was more than a little mortifying. He wasn’t sure where the words had come from. He just knew with Dorian standing before him it had suddenly become difficult to think of anything else. Whether or not he’d wished to say it, he meant every bit of it. He could no longer imagine a future without Dorian in it, at least not a future he wanted.

“Care for company or is there a one handsome, brooding man limit to this wall?”

Lucien’s chuckle gave way to a sigh. He leaned back on his elbows and offered Dorian a lopsided smile. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he said. “I grew up in the Circle. It wasn’t as bad as some but the longest relationship I’ve had is- well this.”

“Regretting your whole ‘we’ll make things up as we go’ bravado?”

“Now?” Lucien laughed. “But it’s working out so well.”

Dorian leaned on the wall next to Lucien. The sky was reflected in his upward gaze. “I’m sorry you felt I was blowing you off earlier. You must understand- you’re the Inquisitor. You’re the one with responsibilities. I am but an adornment upon your arm.”

Lucien quirked an eyebrow at him. “All of a sudden, that’s all you are?”

“That’s not all I am, but I’m not the great holy hope of southern Thedas.”

“It’s still early.”

“You joke. One day they’ll write books about you. Boring ones that get it all wrong, just watch.”

None of this was helping, of course. Everything Dorian said only convinced Lucien further that he never wanted this to end. What was the Inquisition- every terror and responsibility that came along with it- in the face of, well, that face and every word that came out of it? He took ahold of Dorian’s collar and pulled him in for a kiss. They leaned into each other and for a moment Lucien forget what a muddled mess he became every time he tried to speak to the Tevinter mage.

When they parted, Dorian looked uncharacteristically serious. “I- don’t know what the future holds. For us, or anything. That’s my honest answer. Once Corypheus is defeated- when this is over- I’d like to talk about it more, if you would, amatus.”

“Amatus? Tevene is hardly my strongest subject. Funnily enough, the Circle wasn’t too keen to teach us too much about Tevinter. But if I recall, that means-”

Dorian lay a finger on Lucien’s lips. “This thing we’re having right now? It’s a moment. A very lovely one. Do just let it be.”

“Spoil sport.”


End file.
